Part of Your World
by Professor Maka
Summary: Half-mermaid Maka is out for her weekly sea bath when she meets human loving merman Soul. Raised in two different worlds, they might find they have more in common than either could ever have imagined. SoMa Mermaid AU.
1. Sea Bathing

**A/N: This is getting its own place because I'm pretty sure it's part one of a maybe three shot. Written for SoMa Week 2015 Day 5, Nightswimming. Thanks again to ilarual for the eyes. Thanks as well go to makenmeister on tumblr, who collaborated with me to create art and whose contribution is the fantastic cover.**

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Maka hated the sea. She had lived on the shore all her life, bound to it as surely as she was bound to eating, to drinking, to breathing. She hated that she had to come down to the small, secluded little cove just beneath her house, hated that, like clockwork, she would strip to nothing and bathe in the sea beneath the moonlight every Sunday night.

She could do it less often and still function.

She would feel _even bette_r if she did it more.

Once a week was the compromise she was willing to live with, even if it actively grated on her.

At least she'd finally scared her stupid, silly Papa off from coming with her.

When she was young, they had always bathed together, tails manifesting when they hit the water. When she was very, very young, her Mama would bathe with them, tailless and serene, basking in the moonlight, her head always in the stars above, dreaming, dreaming, _dreaming_ of far off places.

One day, those dreams had simply swept her mother away, the sparse postcards she still sent the only evidence she'd ever existed at all. The postcards and _Maka_.

This night Maka was downright angry that she had to come down here, that she was stuck attending the small private college in town rather than going to her landlocked school of choice, that she was stuck always with the sea at her side, vast, unchanging yet unreliable, unpredictable, wild.

The sea was her father and her father was the sea.

She was also angry that she had to give up her Friday night to this, since she would be in her good friend's wedding the next day and wouldn't be home from the trip until Monday.

She couldn't risk feeling weak for the whole thing, so here she was. Again. This time on a Friday night. It's not that she had any particular plans, but it was the principle of the thing, dammit!

She looked at the clouded sky overhead, the lack of stars somehow comforting and disheartening all at once, looked down from the cliff face into the churning waters below, then stripped down to only her bikini top quickly before diving off the cliff face and into the turbid waters without a care.

Her father would be appalled at the risk she was taking, but Maka loved it. It felt almost like flying for all of ten seconds. It was, far and away, the best part of any given Sunday, those brief seconds when she took to the air, those brief seconds before she hit the water and her body changed and she once more became one with the sea.

Those few seconds made this odd Friday swim almost bearable.

Fully transformed within the cold Pacific, Maka dove beneath the turbulent waters, letting her newly reformed gills breathe for her, gliding along the bottom before surfacing in a graceful arc, racing along the waves before they came crashing into the high cliff face. She felt the exhilaration of weaving through the tumultuous sea, the inborn bond with her Father's birthright running thick through her veins in her transformed state. The mermaid in her thrived within the churning waters, and oh how she loathed that part of herself.

Exhausting her pent up need to simply _swim_, she eventually made her way to the little grotto in the cliff face. She had discovered it as a small child, a place where a little hot spring met the ocean waters to leave it warm, comfortable. A place where odds and ends washed up and came to lie. There was a form of algae that grew on the walls that offered faint light that was as good as bright daylight to her mermaid eyes. She swam inside as she had done a thousand thousand times and looked around for what new curiosities the sea had swept in. She had found countless messages in bottles and driftwood, but there were also stranger things, forks and spoons, little statuettes and countless old, waterlogged books.

Maka liked to sit and imagine what kind of odd journey had brought such things here, what type of people had used to own them and what had happened to them. She supposed it was the lover of stories in her, that same love that had her hanging on every word when her Papa talked about his homeland when she was still small, that same love that had her studying literature in school.

Whatever the case, the grotto was the other part of her Sunday (though now Friday) nights she didn't loathe. There was nothing new today but for some driftwood, odd but not entirely unprecedented, so she simply swam into a quiet corner she'd long ago claimed as her sanctuary, and let the flow of warm water from the spring below cascade around her. Maka watched the soft glow of the algae for a time before letting her eyes drift closed. She was in her aquatic form–it wasn't like she could drown.

She would not get to relax for long.

After a time, she heard a sharp intake of breath and, figuring her father had invaded her bathing time again, was about to open her eyes and tell him off when she heard a stranger's voice growl, "What the fuck?" in a language she only ever heard her father speak.

Her eyes flew open, her body taking a defensive position of its own accord as she saw a person treading water not two feet in front of her. A person with wild white hair plastered to his skull and menacing red eyes. He was scowling at her, too sharp teeth bared in threat. With years of martial arts training under her belt, her brain shrieked enemy and her hand flew behind her to grasp the nearest object–a rather thick tome–and hurl it with preternatural strength at her would be attacker.

The book slammed into his forehead with an accuracy wrought of honed muscles and desperation, and the odd man before her yelped in pain as the book sank into the water before him, clutching his poor assaulted head and swimming back several feet before turning his glare back on her. She caught sight of his long, gray tail as he swam and the realization that had not dawned with his use of a foreign tongue suddenly clicked into place with his newly growled, "Seriously, _what the fuck_?"

"I–" she blinked at him, surprised. She hadn't seen a merperson who wasn't her father since she was a small child, and she'd never seen one quite like this. "You're a merperson." She finally settled on, her use of her father's native tongue clumsy. She knew the language fluently–her father had taught her, spoken it with her since infancy–but she was rusty with long disuse.

"Yes, thank you Lady Obvious," he said with a sigh, running a hand through his drying white locks in exasperation. "We're merpeople–shocking revelation what with the tails and gills and all. That doesn't tell me why you're in my damned sanctuary assaulting me."

His tone was flat and angry, and Maka was having none of it–few merpeople as she'd encountered, she wasn't about to be told off by this one.

"_Your_ sanctuary?" she said in his tongue, incredulous. "I've been coming here since I was a child! I don't know who you think you are, but–"

"Are you from Marina?" he cut her off, tone suddenly more cautious.

"Huh?" She furrowed her brow, shaking her head. She knew the name–it was where her father had come from, where he had taken her once and only once when she was a very small child. "I–" she shook her head again.

"Your accent is strange," he went on slowly. "And you don't look familiar–you're my age, or close, so I at least should have seen you at the rituals. Just who are you, anyway?"

His gaze was seeking, piercing, his eyes narrowed dangerously. She felt herself shrink a bit under the intensity of his stare.

"I'm–um–Maka."

"Ma-ka," he tested it, frowning. "That's a strange name."

"My mother gave it to me," she explained, though why she felt the need to explain _anything_ to him was beyond her. "It was her grandmother's name."

His eyebrows shot up incredulously at that and she snapped out in irritation, slipping into English, "Yeah, because I'm sure you're name is _so_ much better.

She realized her slip quickly, expecting a blank stare. Instead, there was something like realization dawning on his face and he swam just a little closer. "You speak English," he breathed almost reverently, his own English accented but intelligible.

"Well, yeah," she replied in English again with a slight nod. "I do."

"Where did you learn?" He swam closer, and his face had softened as he continued to speak her tongue. "You sound just like them, it's amazing."

"I–um–" she hedged. Telling this strange merperson the truth was unwise. Her father had always warned her to avoid his kind, that they wouldn't understand, that many hated those who were of both land and sea.

"And your hair is such an odd shade–"

"This coming from a guy with white hair," she grumbled, but he shrugged it off.

"Surely you recognized the shark blood," he waved a dismissive hand as he swam yet closer, only a foot between them now. "Maybe not common or well liked, but not unheard of. But you–"

"My Papa taught me," she cut him off, latching onto the last question,

He paused at that, eyeing her. "Who is he, then?"

"Spirit Albarn," she offered quickly, used to speaking his name in town to a dismissive eyeroll. She'd forgotten the name might have meaning among his kind, too, until his eyes widened in shock, his jaw dropping.

She'd forgotten her father's warning, that his name could be dangerous among his kind.

"You–you're–" he sputtered, his hand extended towards her.

"Look, I need to go. It's been great-Uh-talking, but–" she had begun to swim along the wall, trying to edge past him, shifting to speaking his tongue once more.

He shook his head. "Wait! You're–you're Spirit Albarn's daughter. You're _human_, aren't you!" He also relapsed into his native tongue. "At least that explains the weird human chest covering," he added under his breath.

She froze, shook her head vehemently, and flipped her tail out of the water, green and iridescent under the moss light.

"Okay, half human, I get it," he backed off a bit and spread his hands out in a gesture of supplication. "Don't worry–" he said mildly. "Not some half breed hater. Not gonna hurt you. Actually think it's really cool."

He sounded so genuinely enthusiastic at the last that it caught her off guard. She let out a held breath and stopped, facing him again. "It's actually the opposite of 'really cool,'" she said with a head shake. He was a stranger who had invaded her space and now–he thought he knew something about her life because he knew she was a half breed? _He knew nothing. _"You asked why I'm here. It's because I _have to be_." Her temper flared at his idiot presumption and she swam closer to him, inches away now, voice low. "If I don't swim in the ocean, I get sick and weak. And it would be the opposite if my Papa had taken me to live with his people. If I didn't spend time on the land, I would sicken." He was shaking his head, edging even closer. "Being a half breed is being cursed to be a part of neither world, forever bound to the shore where they meet. I hate it. _I hate the sea._"

He didn't back off, but met her gaze evenly.

"Me too," he said simply.

Her eyes widened and she was the one to back off. "But you're a–I mean–" she'd slipped into English again in her surprise.

"One of them?" he said angrily in his own tongue. "I don't wanna be. I wanna be human, walk the shore, see their cities, listen to their music. I hate being what I am–hate how they–" he cut himself off, eying her. "Doesn't matter. I just–I wish I could be like you and live in that world, even if it meant being stuck on the shore. Me, I'm just stuck in the sea."

He sounded almost defeated. Maka shook her head, confused, backing away to lean against the wall and give him space. "But you could live on shore if you really wanted–merpeople can change tail to legs–my Papa–"

"Has a rare gift. Most of us can only change during mating season. It's a rare few, those who carry the most pure blood, who can change at will–and most of them would never lower themselves to walk human cities. Your father is a pariah for what he did."

She wasn't sure which part to address first, it was so much information. She knew so little of the merworld, her father teaching her the tongue and telling her stories of his childhood, yet sharing little else.

"But I can change anythi–"

"You're half–" he waved a dismissive hand "–that's a given. But I can't change, even if I want to. Not without a mate–and I don't want a bloody mate–but even then, it would only be for a short time during the season. I want to be able to change for good."

"Even my Papa has to return to the sea," she said slowly.

"Yeah, but he can still live among the humans. You don't know how lucky you are. I've heard rumors there's a way–Stein even said it–but no one seems to know what, and I just–" he seemed to realize he was ranting because he cut himself short and sighed. "Anyway, it's not important." He shifted his language back to English. "So–you come here to bathe?" He drifted over towards her, settling against the wall beside her. "Because I come here nearly every Seventhnight and I've never seen you."

"Seventh–night?"

He nodded. "You know, like tonight?"

"So you come here–Fridays?"

" Yes!" He snapped his fingers in sudden realization. "That's what your people call it. Yeah, Friday nights."

"Well, that's why you never see me. I come Sundays, usually–but I had to–um–do something then this week, so I came early."

"Huh," he nodded. "So that's why my stuff gets shifted around so much. Sunday is-"

"Two days from now, but–" she eyed him sideways "–what do you mean, _your stuff_?"

"My stuff–" he gestured around him at the rock shelf above the water "–my collection. How did you think all this crap got here?"

"Um, from the sea? Like driftwood?"

He laughed at that, a long, low rumble. "Poseidon, you really _are_ human, aren't you?" His laughter lasted a bit, and she tried not to blush. As it subsided, though, his eyes were trained on her thoughtfully. "What's it like, anyway?"

"What's–_what_ like?" she asked, puzzled.

"Living on the land–being _human_. What's it like?"

"I–" she frowned. "I don't know, it's normal? I don't know a lot about–" she waved "–how you live, so I'm not sure how to compare it."

"I guess, maybe just–tell me about your life?" he asked hopefully, and he seemed so eager, she couldn't help it, she did.

She told him about how her Dad was a merman who could gain legs at will, how her Mom was a human, and how somehow as her Dad explored the human world, they met and fell in love and had her. He'd heard rumors of all that, of Spirit Albarn, noble and race traitor gone to live among the humans, he told her, but it was different hearing it from her.

She told him of her childhood on the shores of Oregon, of bathing with her parents in the salty sea, her human mother laughing at the antics of her strange, strange family. Of her mother leaving when she was so young and her father taking her to his people–the only time she'd been–and of their eyes, cold, uncaring, judgemental upon a child not yet six.

They hadn't stayed long.

"I do know a thing or two about what assholes my people can be," he grinned at her sharply, showing off rows of razor sharp teeth, speaking with his deep voice in the lilting tongue of his people. She found his voice entrancing, nearly hypnotizing. "Shark blood is–tolerated–but frowned upon."

"You keep saying this, shark blood, but I don't–"

She shook her head, confused.

"Doesn't matter," he said shortly. "Just–get to the human shit. I'm already pretty damned aware of the failings of my kind."

She looked at him sharply, unwilling to be treated so rudely by a stranger. "I honestly don't know why I'm talking to you at all, and if you're going to be rude–"

"Sorry, sorry–" he shifted to English, raised a placating hand again. "Just–keep going–please?"

"I–" and he looked so imploring, again, that she relented. What was it about him that had her sharing her life story this way when they'd only just met, when she never never shared it with anyone?

Then again, maybe it was because he wasn't human–because for once–_for once_–she actually _could_. There was an appeal to that, to being able to be so completely honest, a relief that she felt clear down to her soul.

Maybe this was as much for her as it was for him.

So she continued.

Maka told him about her life without her Mama, about school (he had so many questions about school,) about how her Papa had eventually turned to alcohol and the arms of other women to console him for the loss of the human he had fallen in love with. About turning to books herself to console her for the loss of both parents. About sparse postcards and even sparser phone calls, about her friends, her time in high school. About being stuck at a small local college, all other choices bared to her–about the frustrations of being bound to the sea and how she wanted nothing more to be away from it forever.

In short, she told him everything, and for his part, while he asked questions, mostly he just listened.

But she grew tired as the minutes wore on into hours, and as she spoke of her college life, she yawned deeply.

"You're–you're so lucky," he finally said into the quiet. "I know you don't think so, that you feel trapped, but–you are. You can have it all, land and sea. You can have both worlds."

"And yet," she smiled bitterly. "I belong to neither. Look–" she paused and frowned "–you know, actually, you never did give me your name."

"It's Soul," he said automatically.

"Soul," she tested it on her tongue and, somehow, it felt far more right than she would ever admit. "Well, Soul, I'm exhausted. It was nice to finally meet my cavemate, and I'll refrain from moving around your–collection–in the future, but I think this is where we part ways. Since this really isn't my normal bathing day, I should stay out of your hair."

She'd begun to swim as she talked, making her way to the mouth of the small grotto and he followed, frowning. Eventually, they were both back out in the night, the moon finally appearing amidst a break in the heavy clouds, casting a silver glow on her strange companion, on his hair of starlight and odd red eyes, that was both eerie and beautiful.

_He_ was both eerie and beautiful.

"Well, I'll just be–going then," she said awkwardly as she swam over to the cliff face and grabbed the first rung of the ladder that hung down, willing her tail to re-form into legs. "And don't look," she hissed back at him, causing him to shake his head in confusion. "I don't have any–bottoms on."

"Bottoms?" He blinked at her.

"You know–" She gestured to her lower half and he rolled his eyes.

"You humans are so weird with your modesty shit," he grumbled, but made a show of averting his gaze.

"Anyway, Good luck with–life, I guess," she called down as she made it to the top of the cliff face. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime, but I doubt it. I really do prefer to bathe alone."

If she caught his murmured, "Yeah, maybe you will," from so far away, she didn't acknowledge it, simply turned her back to him to disappear into the night.


	2. Cave Sharing

A/N: Long time no update, but I was finally inspired to work on this. At 3 AM. Yay brain!

Thanks go to bendy, laura, kat, and lucy for the eyes.

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It was Sunday night again, and after a week and a half away from the sea, her body was screaming for the chill of the salt water to soothe skin too long confined to legs alone. Maka dove in, a long leap from the cliff as was her custom, and felt a shiver of sheer elation course through her body as she met the brisk embrace of the sea.

Invigorated, she swam fast, leaping and arcing and frolicking, her body coursing with relief and adrenaline at being back to its other home. She executed a dazzling flip out of the water and grinned as her tail flashed green in the moonlight.

She hated how much she missed the sea when she was away, but she did, and to ice the cake, Kim hadn't even gone through with the wedding. Instead, her good friend of many years had left up and coming Internet pioneer Ox Ford at the altar to run away with her maid of honor, and Maka had been left with the rest their stunned friends to pick up the pieces and console the groom.

What a weekend.

At least Kim and Jackie were likely happy. Maka figured she should have seen that one coming, but it's not like it would have mattered if she _had_ seen it. Kim was Kim and that meant she operated on her own terms always, be that marrying for money or deciding at the last minute that love was more important. Sighing, Maka sank down down down until she hit the sandy ocean floor and let the cool feeling of submersion wash over her. It was a lovely night, calm, serene, and the sea bottom so near the shore was quiet yet still teeming with life. It was beautiful in its own way-her sharp mermaid eyes showed her every small detail even in the dark below the waves-yet it was such a reminder of how bound she was to this hated place that she could only scoff at her silly bout of sentimentality.

Though, as she had discovered last week, she wasn't the only one who was trapped. That odd merman, Soul, was equally trapped-more trapped really. She had always felt so sorry for herself, lamenting that she could not chase after her wayward Mama, could not attend the college she wished, that Maka had never even considered that things might be worse.

Not like there was anything to be done about it. The merman had his troubles, but they couldn't concern her. This recently discovered cavemate would keep his day and she would keep hers and they would both continue dealing with their respectively unhappy lives alone as they had all along.

As she resurfaced and reached the entrance of the little cave, she heard a throat clearing and started as she noticed red eyes flashing in the moonlight just to the side of the entrance.

Or _not_. What was he-?

"Soul?" she asked, incredulous. "I thought you came on Fridays." She was careful to speak in his tongue, clumsy as she was with it.

"Well, I had something to do, so I had to switch. Sorry. Hope I'm not bugging you. Nice swimming, by the way."

"You-saw?" The slip into English was unintentional.

"You frolicking around like a youngling at her first surfacing?" He kept to his own tongue. "Maybe." His grin was sharp, though his eyes held no malice, only genuine amusement.

"It's been a week and a half," she sputtered. "I-"

"I know, I get it." He looked thoughtful, switching to halting English "The ocean calls to you after awhile. Honestly, it was kind of-" was he blushing? "-_cute_. And anyway, at least you ditched the stupid chest covering. You look much better without it."

It was her turn to blush, and screech, and cover her chest with her arms. "My top!" She hissed back in English. She must have lost it in all the swimming. _Crap_. "Don't look you-you-_perv_-how could you-"

As he held up his hands in surrender, she swam closer, chest still covered by her forearms.

"Whoa, whoa, I don't know what a perv is, but I wasn't trying to-whatever-not like there's much to look at, _calm down-_-" He was back to his native tongue again.

He never saw the chop to the head coming, though without a book, she'd resorted to using her hand. It was just as effective. He looked dazed and went quiet, and she swam past with a dignified a swish of the tail into the cave to sink down in a corner, chest submerged. That would teach him to stare and make such disparaging comments. _Rude_.

Soul swished in after slowly, parking himself against the cave wall some distance away, glaring. "You must be the most violent person I've ever met," he grumbled in English, rubbing his head ruefully. "Are all humans like you?"

"Only the good ones." She kept to English, smiling triumphantly, and he grumbled something else under his breath she didn't quite catch but that seemed to involve several choice swears in his native tongue.

They sat for a moment, just sizing each other up, before Maka let out a long sigh. "Anyway, I don't think being human is all that different from being a merperson. I don't feel so different, though I don't know, maybe it's because I'm neither so either way I'm still _me_." Her shrug was small, resigned.

"_You_ is pretty cool," he ventured in her tongue, causing her face to feel as hot as the blush that spread over his cheeks. "Even with the violence."

She laughed and shook her head. "You hardly know me."

"I know enough," he insisted. There was an awkward pause, and then, "Anyway, weren't you attending some weird human mating ritual last week?"

"Wedding, and yeah, though it didn't happen. The bride changed her mind."

Soul looked stunned for an instant, sinking into the water as his tail simply quit moving, then shook his head in seeming bewilderment. "The-bride? The female? How could she? I mean, if they were to mate they must have bonded, so it's not like there's a _choice_, how could she-?"

Maka blinked at him, and she was sure her confusion was writ large on her face. "_Bonded_? No-humans don't-what does that even _mean_?"

His look of incredulity was so odd she had to stifle another laugh. He took in a deep breath, brow furrowed in seeming thought.

"Okay, so," he switched to his own tongue, "sometime after we hit mating age, and that time can vary a lot, when mating season nears, if we are in close proximity to the right person, we bond-and then, that's our mate. Most of the unmated go to the mating gatherings close to the season hoping to find a match since it can take a awhile to find the right one and people are fucking pathetic, but some choose to avoid the damn things and try to remain unbonded. It's-gah, I can't believe humans don't bond, how do you even mate, then?"

"I-we-" she'd gone stark red, using English. "We just do? We don't have a season or bonds or whatever. We just find someone we like and-uh-you know. Whatever."

"Weird," was his only response, this time in English again.

"So this bond thing is like-permanent-or? Do you pick the person?" Curiosity was taking over. Her Papa had never told her about this, and she suddenly wondered how he'd managed to be with her mother at all.

"Oh, no we-I mean we don't really get to chose, it's more like-" he frowned, fumbling for the words in English. "It's like our soul knows before our heart who we'll love, and so the bond is formed. Though sometimes love comes first-it's not always the same for everyone. But-not everyone wants that."

Being merciful, because he looked more than a little flustered, Maka shifted their talk to explain about weddings, and then they moved on to other topics, sometimes human things and sometimes mer things, sometimes in his tongue and sometimes in hers, before calling it a night.

As she left, making him turn his back again since she was completely nude, she sighed. It really wasn't so bad, having someone to talk to while she bathed, though of course, he'd be back to Fridays next week and they would likely see each other very little.

"It was nice to see you again," she called from the top as she left, and she was surprised she actually meant it.

Maka should have known better than to think she'd never see him again.

He showed up the next Sunday and the next and the one after, each time with a different excuse, until it was simply expected he'd be there on Sunday and excuses became obsolete. They mostly just talked, sometimes about their lives, sometimes about their families, sometimes about their cultures. Maka told him all about human sports and music and food, brought him books and other things to see and learn and taste, and for his part, he did the same-teaching her things about her other half her father had long kept from her.

Sometimes they just swam together, splashed each other, raced each other, wrestled even. Maka always won. After a few months, he offered to take her to some places he liked, dragging her to such lovely things that she started to hate the ocean just a little less. Coral reefs, yawning underwater canyons, dazzling moonlit coves.

Eventually, as the months stretched ahead and summer neared, she grew to genuinely like him, to look forward to their strange Sunday night meetings. He was snarky and bitter, but also kind and genuine. He loved music and played some sort of melodic merpeople percussion instrument that looked something like a xylophone; it seemed his family was a line of musicians, revered in their culture-except for him.

Sharkbloods were only ever tolerated, he had eventually explained, clearly uncomfortable. Reverence was reserved for his charming, normal older brother and the light, bright music he played, not for Soul with his odd looks and odder melodies. She started to bring a waterproof MP3 player so he could hear more of the human music he loved, filling it with every genre she could find and puzzling over his love of jazz.

Maka didn't quite understand his fierce longing to be human, but his need for escape made her heart ache. He deserved better. So much better. In fact, she grew so fond of his company, that nine months after they'd met, when he didn't show up one Sunday, she was more than a little worried.

Being in the cave alone, _their cave_, felt strange and wrong. Maka desperately wished she had a way to contact him, just to know he was okay, and resolved to ask him if there was any means he knew to send a message between their worlds, or a least to warn her beforehand-something.

The next week, she was on edge as she approached the cliff face and dove in. She stifled the urge to just _swim_, instead going straight to the cave.

After breathing a deep sigh of relief as she saw him already resting sullenly against a wall, she shrieked and swam quickly to him, chopping him on the head with a nearby book.

"What the hell, Maka?" He cradled his sore forehead.

"You-you _asshole_! I was so worried! How could you-"

"Sorry-I'm sorry-!" He held up his hands. "My stupid brother dragged me to a mating gathering, and I-"

She put her hands over her mouth in shock, shaking her head, then removed them and sucked in a breath. "Did you-did you find-" Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"Nah," he grumbled. "Thank Poseidon. Shit, thank Asura himself. Last thing I need is a fucking mate."

Stifling a relieved sigh-why should she be relieved, that was stupid-she nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Relationships are nothing but trouble." His emphatic nod made her smile, though it also made her unaccountably sad. She refused to examine the reasons for that as she placed a hand on his shoulder in solidarity. "To the single-" she felt something odd and warm at the contact of their skin and there was an odd burst of light and then-

Soul looked stricken and started to flail, his head bobbing at the top of the water. He almost look like he couldn't keep afloat, like-

"Soul, are you-" she reached arms out to steady him and suddenly she felt it as he clung to her, latching onto her torso. One kick and then another and then there were appendages trying to cling and wrap around her tail to keep him above water. She nearly chopped him, his proximity making her flush scarlet, but there was clearly something dreadfully _wrong_. He was suddenly, dreadfully _wrong._

"Shit," he swore in his own tongue. "Shit shit _shit_."

"Soul-what-?"

"Can you-" he looked wide eyed and frightened "Help me? To-Uh-to the cliff to your-?"

"I-"

"_Please_, Maka?"

"Yeah-" she swallowed and nodded. "Can you-hold on?" She tried not to flush deeper as he nodded and clung more tightly. She slowly, carefully, swam out of the cave and to the cliff side, to the rope ladder.

"Can you climb?" This was all so surreal. She felt light headed.

He nodded slowly. "I think, yeah."

Grabbing the ladder with one hand then the other, he hoisted himself up by his arms, hand over hand, his legs dangling limply. His _very human _legs.

She gasped, though of course she had felt them underwater, had already guessed, and averted her eyes from a pale but well formed backside.

Eventually she looked up and noticed he was just hoisting up over the cliff. "I'm coming up, don't look!" She called out, and willing her own change, she quickly scaled the ladder. She found him up top, laying sprawled out, legs akimbo, looking dazed. She caught sight of stark white where thigh met torso and quickly looked away, scrambling for her yoga pants, and throwing him her towel.

"Wha?" He grunted but she refused to look at him.

"Just-cover yourself, oh my _god_."

"Oh yeah, that human modesty shit, forgot," he grumbled, but she heard fabric shift and sighed relief. The towel was now over his lap.

"Alright," she said. "Now let's-help you up, and then-I don't know-" she shook her head and walked closer, squatting next to him to offer a hand. He took it and she pulled him to a sitting position, then sat on the ground across from him, shaking her head again. "Soul, what's going on?"

He averted his gaze, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Told you it was mating season. We grow legs-told you that, too."

"I thought you had to bo-"

"Must be a fluke," he cut her off, and he was absolutely scarlet in the moonlight. "Whatever. I'll be stuck with legs until the next full moon."

"But tonight is the full-"

"Yep."

"Oh." A month. He was going to be stuck on land for a whole _month._

Her throat was suddenly parched, her hands clammy. _A month_.

"Okay. _Okay_. We can-I'll take you home and we'll figure it out. Okay?"

He nodded. And really, it wasn't like he had a choice, she knew that.

"Do you-can you walk?"

He shook his head this time. "Never had legs. Usually elders help the first time."

"It's-it's okay. It's fine." She sucked in another deep breath. "I can help. It'll be fine. Our cottage isn't that far. Just-yeah."

Tired of stumbling over words, Maka crawled over and squatted next to him. It took some odd maneuvering-he was tall, far taller than her with legs, and _heavy_-but she got him standing, his arm slung over her shoulder, her own arm around his back, the towel dropping in the process.

Shit shit _shit_.

There was no picking it up, not without him falling. She'd just have to-not look-though ignoring just how warm it felt to be pressed half naked to his fully naked side was impossible.

"Okay now, walking is-moving one foot then another and keeping weight on the leading foot once you shift. Try, um, moving a foot on three-"

She counted and they moved together. It was awkward and wobbly and they almost fell several times. Soul cursed profusely the entire way as he misstepped often, his legs wobbly, but eventually they made it to the front walk and she thanked all that was holy her house had no porch steps. There was, however, a step up inside and they nearly tripped on that before stumbling into the house.

Maka deposited him onto the couch unceremoniously before disappearing into the hall, digging out a thick blanket to throw at him as her gaze remained averted.

"Cover up, then we can talk."

After some rustling he said, "You can look, okay?"

She let out a long held breath then flopped to the other side of the couch, looking him up and down. He'd draped the cover over his full body, neck to feet. She decided to ignore the decided rise in his lap to instead meet his eyes, so deep red in the electric lights of the house that she nearly gasped. Moonlight didn't do them justice. His stark hair was drying, plastered to his forehead. He looked exhausted, though his eyes were darting everywhere in wonder.

"So this is your-house?"

"This is my house."

"And your Dad?"

"On a business trip."

Soul shifted under the blanket, frowning. "This thing feels weird. Itchy. Can I-"

"No," she gritted. "You get used to it. You wanted to be human and humans cover up."

"Yes, I guess," he sighed out.

"Okay. So. My dad won't be home for a few days, so I'm thinking-we get you to the guest room, get some sleep, and tomorrow we can figure out-clothes and-uh-walking. Human stuff. Okay?"

He nodded, swallowing visibly. "Yeah, okay." Normally he wasn't this compliant. It highlighted how completely out of his element he really was.

Getting him to the guest room was a process. He lost his blanket again, there was stumbling as she held him up, but eventually she left him on the bed and helped him maneuver under the covers, sighing her relief.

"This is weird. Humans sleep in these?" He sounded incredulous.

"I know you've seen a bed in books, Soul," she snapped.

"Well, yeaaaah, but I thought it'd be-I don't know, softer? Water is waaaay more comfortable"

She rolled her eyes, though her father always owning a water bed suddenly made more sense. "You'll get used to it," she said for the second time that night. "I'm going to bed. You can yell if you need anything, my room is-"

"_Your_ room?" He looked stricken for an instant. "you aren't-aren't staying here?"

She stilled, met his nearly pleading gaze beneath a hastily reconstructed blank veneer.

The bed was a queen. Soul was helpless right now and clearly nervous, scared even. It would be okay, a small mercy, to stay with him. She tried to remind herself how new all this was for him. Maka could give him this.

"Okay-I guess I can stay here-"

The genuine smile at that announcement made her heart race.

"But," she continued. "I sleep with my own blankets and you keep your distance. Got it?"

"Got it. Totally. Absolutely."

"Good. I'll be right back." She left and grabbed extra covers, returning to lay purposefully on the cover he was under and burritoing herself in the extra blankets after flicking off the light. She ignored his insistence she looked ridiculous and faced him, though, because he clearly needed the reassurance.

"Maka?" he asked softly after several minutes, eyes just visible in the moonlight.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

His breathing evened out shortly after and when the shine of his eyes vanished beneath the lids, she guessed he was sleeping.

As she closed her own eyes, too aware of his proximity, she figured it was going to be a long four weeks.


	3. He's Got Legs

A/N: I really struggled with this chapter, and scrapped and rewrote half. Thanks to Bendy, Lucy, Kat, Laura, and Meagan for the eyes and/or help.

* * *

She felt too warm, with a heavy heat pressed against her. It was both odd and pleasant.

Blinking awake, groggy, Maka struggled to see why she felt so trapped, so pinned, so protected, but she couldn't _move. _She scanned down, but all she saw was fluffy white just below her chin.

Fluffy. White. _Oh_.

Maka hadn't shared a bed since-well-since she was a little girl with her parents, really. It was strange, but also weirdly comfortable. _Still_, he was naked beneath the blanket, she knew that, and she needed to move. Better not to wake him. Better to get everything in order first. She began to squirm in her burrito of blankets, wiggling down slowly. Soul grunted at the movement, muttering something not quite comprehensible in his own tongue of which she caught at least one curse word, Wes, and sleep in the midst of, before groaning and flipping to his back instead of being pressed to her side.

Her relieved sigh was involuntary and, it seemed, enough to catch his attention.

She was just sitting, her blankets shuffled to her waist, when she heard her name, low and rough. Maka turned her head to see red eyes staring up at her blearily, so she forced a smile.

"Good morning, Soul!" she said in his tongue. The cheer was just as forced. There was a naked merman in bed with her, so sue her if she was a little thrown off.

"Mornin'," he offered, voice still rough. She ignored how much she enjoyed the sound, how much his groggy half smile made her feel warm. There were things that needed doing; silly tummy flutters were not going to help any.

"Okay so, I'm just going to find you some clothes-I think Papa's might actually fit-and then-uh-maybe make us something to eat. Can you just-stay put?" She was careful to keep to his tongue for now. This was all so new for him, had to be, that she wanted to make it as easy as possible, to give him something familiar to latch onto.

"Not like I can really get anywhere," he muttered. The smile had slipped, his expression now carefully neutral.

"Great!" Her voice sounded gratingly bright even to her own ears. "I'll just-be back."

Springing off the bed and out of the room, Maka took care of her morning necessaries quickly and grabbed clothes from her dad's room. Returning to the guest room with her arms full of Spirit's clothes, she let her gaze settle on her new houseguest. He had managed to wiggle himself into a sitting position-he must be used to sitting up when he surfaced with his tail-and was leaned up against the headboard, blanket barely covering his lap. Maka was careful not to look at the trail of white below his naval, instead keeping her eyes resting firmly on his.

"So-I got you clothes, and-"

"Maka?" he interrupted, sounding uncomfortable, and she noticed for the first time he was practically squirming, though his face was still unreadable.

"Is something-wrong?"

"I-I mean-" he sucked in a breath "-how do humans-er-excrete?" He was speaking English.

"Ex-Crete?" She blinked.

"You know," he began in English then shifted to a word in his own tongue she'd never heard.

She shook her head. "I don't know that word."

His face fell. "Uh-when-when liquid is expelled-um-from your body, you know?" He was squirming pretty visibly now.

"_Oh_," she breathed, understanding dawning. "You need to pee! To-" she decided she should probably teach him a more proper word "-to urinate!"

There was no recognition in his eyes but he nodded anyway. "Yes, I guess. Can you-I mean-where and uh how?"

_Shit_. She hadn't considered he would need to do his morning business, too. _Oh god was she going to have to help him pee? _

She had to draw the line somewhere. Deciding she would get him to the toilet but anything else was up to him, she nodded. "Okay. Uh. Let's." Thinking fast brought over his clothes. "Let's get these on and then we can walk to the bathroom. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." It wasn't as though he really had a choice.

* * *

Twenty minutes and a good deal of mortification later, Soul was dressed and on the couch, bladder mercifully empty. Maka had needed to help more than she would have liked and had gotten an eyeful several times. At least he'd managed to relieve himself on his own, if a bit messily, and had even walked from the bathroom to the couch alone, though he was definitely unsteady on his feet.

"So breakfast," she said from the kitchen only a few feet away. "I have cereal, oatmeal, or I could maybe make eggs. What's your poison?"

"I'd prefer not to be poisoned," he said in his own language with a head shake, clearly confused by the euphemism. "Don't you have fish? Or-well-" she guessed he was considering, but she could only only see the side of his head since he was on the couch facing away "-I guess I should try real human food? So whatever would be a typical human breakfast."

Maka considered for a moment. She could cook something like eggs and bacon, but really, cereal was the most typical breakfast she could think of and with everything she would be dealing with today (hell, had already dealt with!), maybe simpler was better. So she broke out two bowls and some Apple Jacks and milk and fixed them cereal.

Strutting over with two prepared bowls, she plunked one down on the coffee table in front of him. "Breakfast is served, Monsieur."

"Ma-wha?" Of _course_ he wouldn't get that. Maybe she should keep them to his tongue as she had resolved earlier. Things were strange enough as it was without throwing a language he was only minimally fluent in into the mix.

"It's an expression, and 'Monsieur' is French for, Uh-" she had begun in his tongue but lacked the word she needed. "Mister," she finished in English."

"Mister?"

"It's a title like-you know what, it doesn't matter. Eat your cereal." She sat next to him to emphasize her point, leaving a cushion between them, and spooned her own cereal into her mouth.

Soul watched her eat for a minute then two, and she felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"_What_?" she finally snapped.

"Nothing, it's just-I mean, I _knew_ what it was for the-thing you're picking up your food with-but it's different watching someone use one." He was still speaking English.

"The spoon?" She picked it up from the bowl and waved it for emphasis.

"Yeah, that-_spoon_."

It was strange to think everything was new to him, that even something as mundane as a spoon was odd and fascinating. This was all bound to overwhelm him and she was his guide in this strange new world. Maka really needed to keep that in mind.

"Like this, okay?" She dipped the spoon into the bowl to get a mound of cereal and milk, then raised it slowly, giving him time to see what she was doing. Then she opened her mouth and took in the bite before lowering the spoon to the bowl again. She chewed and swallowed and repeated the motions once, twice, then said, "Now you try." Because she was _not_ going to feed him, just _no_.

Broken from his reverie in which his eyes had been riveted on her actions, he looked at her, face blank. "I guess." He sounded more than a little skeptical, but he leaned forward unsteadily to grab up the bowl on the table and settle it on his lap with one hand as the other gripped the spoon. He shifted the grip in his hands several times until seemingly satisfied, his final grip looking something like hers. Then he dipped the spoon. It took him a moment to negotiate the now slightly soggy Os that floated in the bowl, but he finally managed to steady a spoon full carefully and lift it meticulously to his mouth. It was excruciatingly slow-Maka could have eaten half a bowl in the same span-but he managed to get the food in his mouth.

The moment the cereal and milk hit his tongue, his face scrunched grotesquely as he chewed. Maka watched as he swallowed roughly, the spoon still hovering just away from his mouth, then put it back in the bowl with a clatter.

"You _eat_ that?" He slipped back into his native tongue in his utter incredulity.

She rolled her eyes. He'd just watched her down half a bowl. Of _course_ she ate that. Maka took another bite for emphasis. "Sure do," she said in English. "Why?"

"It's-it's-" his face twisted. "_Fucking disgusting!_" He kept to his tongue.

"Not my fault you let it get soggy!" she snapped, but really, she felt bad. She shifted to speaking his tongue to soothe him. "Just-eat. Maybe we can find something you like better for lunch."

He didn't answer, but he did take another bite and yet another, still careful, still meticulous. He was grimacing, but he was eating, so she took her cue to do the same, munching down the rest of her now woefully soggy cereal and then lifting the bowl to her lips to sip down the divinely sweet cereal milk left behind.

Maka felt his eyes on her before she saw them, lifting her own to meet his head on. "You need something?"

"You-" he began in English, glancing between her empty cereal bowl and his own half full bowl on his lap, the little lines between his brow scrunched in thought "-eat-no-drink it?"

"Mhm," she hummed. "It's the best part!" She kept to English, following his cue again .

He didn't look convinced, but carefully brought the bowl still swimming with soggy Os to his lips and cautiously opened and sipped. Some dribbled down his chin-she guessed merpeople probably didn't drink-but he grinned at her. "This shit _is_ good! Kinda sweet, but good!"

The way he then went from sipping to gulping, heedless of the milk dribbling down his chin and making a trail down his shirt was almost endearing, he was so enthusiastic. After a minute, he put the bowl left with only mush down on the table with a clatter, wiping milk from his lips with the back of his hand with a sigh of satisfaction.

"That was great, thanks for the meal." He grinned at her. "I mean, the other stuff was kinda gross, but I liked the drinking part."

"Yeah, I could tell." She flicked her eyes down his clothed chest to where there was a wet line.

"Sorry." He scratched the back of his head as he looked down, clearly embarrassed. "Drinking is weird. Good, but weird."

Her sigh was only half exasperation; the other half that was fondness was as surprising as it was intense. "It's fine." She stood and stretched, then looked down at him with a warm smile. "I'm going to clean up, then maybe we can work more on walking, sound okay?"

"Yeah." He swallowed visibly. "Okay."

Turning around, she bent slightly to get to the bowls on the table. As she turned back around, she caught a glimpse of the newly risen fabric of his pants.

Oh god, not _again_. Maka had seen enough of _that _when she'd helped him dressed earlier to last a lifetime, thank you very much! She felt herself go hot, then scurried off quickly. "I'm just gonna put these away, be right back!" she called out in a jumble over her shoulder as she fled.

Leaving the dishes in the sink with a clatter, she allowed herself a moment just to breathe. This was so strange and difficult, he had so much to learn, and whatever was going on below the belt with him wasn't exactly making things any easier. Was that because of her or because it was mating season? She didn't know, wasn't sure she wanted to know. The very thought of his toned chest as he'd sat up in bed a scant forty minutes ago made her shiver in a way that she wasn't willing to parse.

Well, no time like the present. He needed to learn and there was no one else to teach him. Walking back to the couch, she studiously ignored the bulge in his pants to stand before him. Mating season, she reminded herself. He can't _help_ it. Just because the legs were a fluke didn't mean the rest of the symptoms wouldn't apply, and she imagined arousal must be one. _It wasn't his fault._

His fault or not, it didn't make it any less awkward.

Still, they had to manage. They only had a couple of days until Papa would be home from his trip, and Maka wanted to make sure Soul was walking before her dad found another merman in the house. Best if Soul at least had the option to run when she dealt with her Papa's inevitable theatrics.

Resolved, Maka looked him up and down as he smiled at her sheepishly from his place on the couch. With his second hand clothes and his wild head of fluffy white locks, he appeared almost human, certainly enough to get by. She tried not to dwell on how good he really looked in clothes. He had looked good in his tail, too, but that hadn't had her heart skipping and her stomach fluttering. _Stupid_.

His smile turned into a downright shit eating grin, his shark-like teeth on full display. Her pulse went from skipping to racing in the space of a single beat. "Looks good, right? Like a real human?"

"Yeah." She swallowed, nodded, forced a smile. "Like a real human."

Maka sighed as she held out a hand to Soul; it was definitely time to practice walking. After all, they had a lot of work to do.

* * *

That evening, as they relaxed together on the couch, she felt tired yet satisfied. While Maka might, early on, have envied those who had experience with physical therapy or small children or _anything _involving teaching someone _how to use their legs_, she now felt fairly accomplished as they sat eating their Chinese takeout. She flicked her eyes to Soul, who was tearing into his Kung Pao shrimp with relish, employing his chopsticks in more scoop than grab. Since everything was new, use of chopsticks had been just as easy as the fork to teach, and she smiled at how much he was enjoying his meal, even if he had declared that, "cooked food tastes weird."

It had certainly been a strange day, so weird was par for the course, she supposed. He could at least walk normally now, even if it had been an all day project. At first, she'd just modeled walking and had him practice, but late in the morning she got the bright idea to look up some things on her smartphone. _That _had yielded a whole host of strategies for reteaching adults to walk; not quite the same thing, maybe, but the principles applied. And so, after a disastrous attempt to feed him tuna salad sandwiches for lunch (he'd wanted fish and canned tuna was what they had-telling her it tasted like eating a rotting pile of ass had been totally uncalled for!), she had shifted gears and taught him some partial movement strategies that worked up to walking. Since he had both muscle tone and coordination, it was more a matter of learning to use muscles he'd never actually possessed before in ways that were somewhat foreign than anything else.

Once he could walk, using the bathroom and dressing alone were natural extensions; with minimal instruction, Soul could manage. He'd even showered on his own, though he'd yelped when he got soap in his eyes from the shampoo. Explaining how things worked from the other side of the curtain as he washed himself, hidden but still naked and near, had been disconcerting enough that it simply hadn't occurred to Maka to warn him to be careful to close his eyes.

Well, he'd survived anyway, and he seemed pretty content for the moment. She supposed the day was a success. Maybe by the time Papa got back he would even be able to pass for human, a friend in need of a place to stay.

Or maybe not.

An innocuous few days passed. Looking back, Maka would even call them blissful. She made him some of her favorite things (she wasn't an outstanding cook, but her skills were passable, damnitall,) to mixed reviews, teaching him basic table etiquette as they went. They took a walk to the small private strip of sand they shared with their closest neighbors. She kept to her legs and worked on teaching him to swim as a human, worked on teaching him how to move outside the water, to jump, different ways to sit or squat or kneel, even how to run. Watching him mimic her so diligently, his face a mask of concentration even as he snarked about the weirdness of having legs, was somehow endearing.

Through it all, his periodic and ongoing problem in his pants continued, and for her part, Maka continued to ignore it. Unfortunately, ignoring it didn't stop her occasional heated blushes, nor could she help how his deep voice, his rare smiles and rarer laughs made her heart gallop. He might be the one who was in heat, but she was stupidly affected, too. Annoying, lazy, snarky Sharkface though he was, Soul was too damned attractive for either of their good.

There were also _questions. _For as much as he sometimes liked to feign apathy, to pretend to be above it all or to know it all already, he was also the same lover of human culture she'd met in the cave so many months ago_. _After a few days of playing twenty thousand questions, even Maka had grown a little tired of sharing her admittedly extensive knowledge-she was an English major and very well read-so she finally made the executive decision to introduce her chance pupil to the wonders of Google.

Soul was an instant convert, and the next day was spent with him glued to her commandeered laptop, headphones over his ears piping in 8track playlists of eclectic jazz as he opened dozens of tabs up on as many topics as he could think of, two finger typing his way to a treasure trove of knowledge and utter nonsense. For a time, Maka sat with him and helped, stupidly enjoying the closeness and basking in his genuine wonder as he vicariously explored a world long barred to him. And for a time, the questions continued:

"Where is Tahiti and should I try to win a trip there?"

"Gain rock hard abs, wouldn't that hurt?"

"Maka, what's a milf and why does sassybuttsecks42 want to introduce me to a bunch of them who are hungry for cock? I mean, that's a male one of those weird birds humans eat, right? So why would I _care_ what they want for dinner?"

Eventually, Maka had patiently explained how to avoid the less savory sites, but as he got the hang of it, she decided to let him do as he would, taking the spot opposite him on the couch and curling up with her latest book, only getting him up to practice his walking every hour. It was a good thing the semester was over-she was pretty sure she'd have to pry her laptop from his cold, dead fingers if she wanted it back any time soon.

When she did manage to snag it from him the next day to check her email, ushering him into the bathtub to soak since he kept complaining the shower was weird, the sudden onslaught of risqué pop up ads was disconcerting to say the least. Frowning, she checked the history.

What she found in the most recent history made her want to laugh and scream and die of secondhand embarrassment all at once. _No wonder _he'd been so quiet after dinner yesterday.

It was a progression, really.

_Human mating_

_How does a penis work_

_Sex_

_Cunilingus_

_Eating out_

_Fallatio_

_Blow jobs_

_Masterbation_

_Jerking off_

Maka stopped reading and cleared the history; she really couldn't take any more without her face catching fire, it was so hot. The thought of him and all-_this_-made her feel strange, but the fact he'd used _her laptop_, of all things. The anger probably wasn't fair, but it was strong, taking the place of whatever else she was feeling with a speed and ferocity she was almost grateful for. She probably needed the distraction.

Storming into the bathroom-since he always kept the curtain closed when he showered so she could sit and advise him, she figured it had become a habit and she was too angry to care anyway-she screamed out as she entered, "What part of stay off of scam sites did you fail to-"

She stopped cold, gaping like a caught fish. The curtain was not closed, and he looked rather startled and drop jawed himself with one hand on his clear arousal, frozen mid stroke.

_Oh_.

"Um-Uh-_nevermind_!" Her face was combusting as she turned tail like a coward and fled from the bathroom.

Neither of them mentioned it and dinner was abnormally quiet, but since Soul didn't pick up her laptop again, she put on a movie instead. He was fascinated by human entertainment and especially wanted to watch things on the television. No time like the present to introduce him to the wonders of Star Wars, she supposed.

Of course, the questions about _that_ were as unrelenting as she'd come to expect from him. Maka appreciated the return to something like the odd yet comfortable equilibrium they'd established over the last few days, even if the thought of what she'd walked in on still made her feel altogether too warm.

Unfortunately, the equilibrium they'd regained couldn't last.

Midway through Episode V, the front door was flung inward and Maka heard a long, loud exclamation of her name that made her cringe visibly.

Looking startled, Soul seemed about to ask something from his place beside her on the couch, but before he got the chance, a tall red head was in front of the television, hovering over them both from just beyond the coffee table.

Her father looked more angry than Maka could ever remember seeing him and it startled her for an instant, but she recovered after a blink or two and coughed lightly.

"Oh, hey Papa, this is Soul. He's a friend from school. I told you he was visiting this month last week, remember?"

She had told him no such thing, but he likely wouldn't remember and he wouldn't call her out if he did.

"Bullshit," he practically growled, eyes narrowed towards Soul dangerously.

Or maybe he would.

"Be _nice_, Papa! Soul's from out of town, and he didn't want to go home during summer break, so I offered-"

"Do you _honestly_ think-" he cut her off, eyes never leaving the man who sat beside her "-I wouldn't know a damn Sharkblood when I see one? How did you even _find_ one? _What is he doing here_?" There was something like murder in her father's sea green eyes, and it made her instantly bristle. She reached over to grab Soul's hand emphatically, squeezing it half for show, half to reassure him.

When she glanced over to him, however, Soul looked awed more than anything. "You're Spirit Albarn," he finally managed in his own tongue. "_The_ Spirit Albarn. I mean, I _knew_ that I guess, that you were Maka's dad, but it's-You're a _legend_." He scratched the back of his neck. "Not necessarily the _good_ kind, more like the type of cautionary bullshit they tell to scare little kids at night, but _still_."

"I'll kill you-you-_you_-octopus headed shark fucker!" Spirit bellowed and launched himself over the coffee table towards Soul, who had at least enough warning to flinch if not the sense or coordination to run. Fortunately for him, Maka was faster and well used to her father's particular brand of ridiculous, so she managed to bolt up and peg him in the head with a book from the coffee table, hitting him neatly in the forehead and stunning him. He collapsed to his knees and sobbed her name.

"Maka, my life! My _angel_!" he sobbed into his hands. "You don't understand, precious, sweetest. _Anything_ but a Sharkblood."

The growl Soul let out surprised her, and even Spirit looked up at that. The sobbing stopped and he leveled his gaze at the other merman, though he didn't rise from his knees.

"You don't deserve her." He spoke the mertongue for the first time since he'd arrived. "And I'll be damned if I let my only daughter mate with a shark-"

"Nobody's mating," Soul grunted in his own language, cutting off the elder merman. "This," he gestured at his newly formed legs, "is a fluke, and once the month is up, I'll be out of your gills." He glanced to Maka and back, and her frown deepened at the look that passed between them. "So if you'd just-chill. Nothing's going on. We're just _friends_. You don't need to pull this human overprotective father crap."

"Sure, kid." He rolled his eyes. "Look, you touch her, I'll filet you myself, simple as that," Spirit said as he stood, then sighed as he looked to his daughter. "Your tainted friend can stay, but only this once. Next season, he finds another port." Though spoken to Maka, the words were in the mertongue and she knew it was meant for Soul, but she wasn't worried about the next season, just the here and now.

She nodded. "Thanks, Papa."

"Does that mean Papa gets a thank you hug?"

She frowned up at him. "Don't push it."

Another sigh and Spirit was down the hall, his bedroom door shut behind him.

Maka resumed the movie, but her attention was elsewhere. Her Papa had taken that both better and worse than she had anticipated, and the unexpected contrast had her mind whirling. Looking briefly to Soul, who looked similarly lost in thought, she couldn't help but wonder what the rest of the month would bring.


End file.
